Report of 25 Aug 2019

Good evening!

The laundry has dried, fallen on the balcony floor and been taken in.  The sea is a nice, vivid blue; there are wisps of clouds like someone has blown at them across the sky; the greens of the foliage are also vibrant, it having rained yesterday.  Good time to enjoy the beauty and write. 

We are well.  We were in Bangalore last weekend to visit my former school principal and his family.  His son was my classmate.  We had met during our school reunion last month and had had no time to talk to the parents.  So, Scott and I went.  We stayed at a Ramada where the breakfast was a small spread but sumptuous.  Meeting with Mr. Iyengar and family was splendid: we reminisced, caught up, laughed, talked.  Scott and I then had lunch with my former classmate, Clare; that was also a laugh- and talk-fest.  The time flew, and then we had an early dinner with my sister-in-law, Susan, and my nephew, Sudhir.  It was a fun time, relaxed and full of bonhomie.  Bangalore has some good restaurants and getting tasty non-Indian food is not difficult. 

We returned to Chennai on Sunday and on Monday, the Internet went down.  So no blogging.  It's quite edifying to see how much we depend on the Net.  We clipped through the data on our phone and kept up with everyone and everything, sort of. 

The Banyan continues to be so fine.  The more I am around other places of work, the more I am reminded of that.  Adaikalam was its usual grand self, and we even partook of the samosas at the cafe run by the patients: tasty fare.  Our more chronically ill patients at Adaikalam are being mobilised to at least get up once a day, to prevent bed sores; needless to say, results are variable, with many liking the comfort of their beds.  Our nurses and support staff are good, so the prodding to rise continues. 

Clinic at Kovalam was crowded, with all the long-standing patients filtering in.  A new patient also came: she is taking care of her mentally-ill sister-in-law, who is our psychiatrist's patient.  In the course of our discussion of her diabetes, my patient said she had four children; I have low tolerance for large family sizes and asked what the deal was with 4.  We urge 2 children, due to the tremendous burden of overpopulation in our land.  She stated that after her first 2 daughters, her in-laws made her promise to try for child no. 3 in the hopes of a son, which she got.  Then her in-laws wanted another boy to keep the first boy company and girl no. 3 came along.  The mother is 55 years old, and as we finished the visit, I asked if child no. 5 was going to ensue.  She blushed and laughed and giggled all the way out, stopping at the door to turn around and look at me as though to wonder if I had indeed said what I did.

Perhaps I need to watch what I say.  In the U.S. once, when a patient's relative said she had date night that night with her husband, I urged her to head on home and partake in those activities; she, too, could not quite believe I had said it. 

But watching what I say is not in my DNA.  My sons are teaching me good lessons about discretion and I am trying to learn them.

I attended a conference at a local hospital yesterday, which was nice.  We met at the home of my sister-in-law and brother after that for tea, which was fun.  My niece is 13 and is delightful, as nieces and nephews are wont to be. 

We saw a couple of Tamil movies - "Nerkonda paarvai" and "Jackpot," and enjoyed them.  We also saw "Once upon a time .. in Hollywood" and liked it, also; names like "Quentin Tarantino," "Coen brothers," "Guy Ritchie," "Danny Boyle," will quickly draw us to the theaters to watch their films.

I talked to my father last week, which was the fun-fest it usually is, and hope to talk to him again today.  Scott has been dispatched to talk to his mother.  We hung out with the boys 2 days ago and that was grand fun.  We may not see either boy for Christmas due to their commitments, but I am glad the communication channels are open: so many mothers I know - and take care of - do not have this priceless gift. 

Unw -

R

Report of 12 Aug 2019

Man, sometimes a 3-day weekend just hits the spot, doesn't it.

Today is Bakrid, a Government holiday.  Scott did not have to go to work, I had no clinic at Kovalam with the recent financial crunch.  It's not just the financial crunch that is cutting services at the B, ostensibly; we are trying to transition services to the Government, which is where they belong.  That said, I miss the patients, I hope they are well and I hope they continue to be well.  I did thoroughly enjoy my day off, however - grocery-shopped, cooked, cleaned, made a delicious (if I may say so myself) salad.

Our (India's) refrigeration techniques are not great, thus our produce is fresh.  In addition to the standard cukes, tomatoes and carrots in the salad, a touch of raw mango does the trick for me.  It is tart when raw and sweet when it starts to ripen.  I can eat salad for 3 meals a day.

The virus attack that sometimes happens at Kovalam happened last week also and I was sick on Thursday.  I had to shorten my workout and then plopped on the sofa.  I did manage to get a bit stronger by the time I had to go to Adaikalam and Scott drove me, thank goodness.  I saw the patients and also checked on some staff who were unwell.  Adaikalam is unfailingly a charge to my DNA; there is always a kind word and hot food and considerable geniality. 

Scott and I ran some errands on Saturday and found our way to our favorite restaurant - Writer's Cafe.  The manager there is a dear, and the establishment is thriving due to myriad factors: the tasty and affordable food, the proximity to a women's college (Ethiraj), the fact that it is a rehabilitation strategy for women afflicted with burns, the very fun staff and very personable manager.  We had a good meal and toodled back home, having to buy a fridge en route. 

A fridge is truly a necessity, isn't it.  I ate some food that had been sitting out a bit too long, I think, and got very sick on Sunday.  I took an anti-spasmodic that I prescribe to our patients and it helped immensely.  I was grateful the fridge arrived.

Adaikalam was wonderful.  One of our patients who is very loquacious in her mental illness was being aided by another patient: the latter drew her a picture and the former was to engage in coloring it.  It was nice.  Otherwise rounds are unfailingly interrupted with the lady's chatter; it is unceasing and quite a feat.  I like it when patients help other patients.  One of the other patients who has recovered well enough to join us as a staff member came by; she wanted to know if she ought to dye her hair.  I am not a fan, thus dissuaded her: the quality of dyes here - as anywhere - is variable.  She said she applied henna to her hair and I said that was a better option. 

We hung out with the boys this morning and that was grand fun.  Lots of talk and laughter and then deep philosophical insight: a friend of one of the boys was injured in the shooting in Dayton, Ohio, and we talked at length about that.  All of us are extremely glad the injured young man is recovering, and our thoughts are with the families of the deceased victims. 

I talked to my Dad yesterday and that was nice.  He said he deliberately skipped the portion of the newspaper dealing with the shootings as he absolutely did not want to read of them.  That is understandable, isn't it.

May you have all things good.

Unw -

R

Report of 7 Aug 2019

And this is the joy of being back.

I have had a tasty lunch, eaten an ice-cold mango - ahh, manna.  One has not lived until one has eaten a cold mango.  I also had a glug of buttermilk after breakfast.  Buttermilk is likely an acquired taste for Westerners.  I like it - it is yogurt, thinned with water and with salt and spices added.  My aunt, a botanist, said she started drinking a glass of it in the mornings and was free of stomach ailments.  We are now trying this approach.  A probiotic, which is marketed elsewhere, is buttermilk jazzed up with other ingredients, including sugar.  The value of yogurt for digestive ailments is taught to us from a young age. 

Our balcony, with its view of the sea, is where I am.  Also nice.  I swam this morning for the first time after returning.  I had lifted weights before that, on the advice of my weight-lifting coach back in Fort Wayne, and then swum.  The old legs were sluggish.  I must have put on weight, though I cannot quite feel it.  A patient at Kovalam said rather matter-of-factly that I had "uppified (bloated)."  Indian candor is legendary. 

I was back at work at Adaikalam last week, then went to Mysore and Coorg.  A cousin lost his 27 year old son; the young son had special needs and was very dear to all of us.  I went to condole and then we went to Coorg to condole with other cousins who had lost their mother.  We then went to Kunjiri, my mother's home and where her land (i.e., her personal asset) still is.  All of it was nice.  We saw as many relatives as we could.  Coorgi candor is also unique: an aunt said, "Do come in, your face is much worse, isn't it."  I had had some darkening of the skin a couple of years ago and tried every trick in the book.  It appeared to be clearing, or so I thought, until the aunt weighed in. 

When my train to Mysore stopped in Bangalore for the usual 15-20 minutes, I got down to buy a snack.  As I turned around after paying, to stretch my legs a bit, I found to my horror that the train was moving and very definitely leaving.  Yaiiii.  The new stoppage time is apparently 5 minutes.  I mulled over letting the train go with my luggage and taking a local train later, but decided against it, ran alongside and got on.  There had been no pre-departure warning whistle, nothing.  The getting back on the train was not as easy as it sounds: I had to judge where to place my foot - on the steps or on the main ledge - and then plan my strategy.  People have died while doing this, slipping and falling onto the tracks below.  Thankfully, I made it and was then in some shock later.  It is a tremendous credit to my weight-lifting coach that some of my muscles were strengthened enough for me to stay upright through this whole maneuver. 

I was back at Kovalam this week to some unsettling news.  We have no money and the clinic is going to be cut back to twice a month from its current weekly schedule.  I firmly believe that twice the number of patients will show up at the bi-monthly clinics and we will have to deal with that.  The patients are going to be very upset, but we will try this altered schedule for now. 

One of our long-standing patients, a fisherman who no longer goes to sea, was one of the first people to greet me at Kovalam and that was lovely.  We chatted a bit, he asked how everybody overseas was.  The patients get quite upset when I leave, but are used to it by now and fully support the "going to see mother-in-law."  Make no mistake that the mother-in-law is number 1 in many Indian (and probably non-Indian) households.

I talked to my father 2 days ago and that was nice.  The boys and we hung out separately on the weekend, too, and that was therapeutic.  We rued the shootings in the U.S. 

We had to send a patient to the hospital today as she was unresponsive.  She likely has Turner's syndrome, where the chromosomes are XO, not XX as most women have.  Men have XY chromosomes.  Everyone hesitated to send her as we owe the hospital a lot of money.  The hospital itself would not turn away our patients, and I appreciate that.  All tests are normal and the patient is back in our facility.  She is a delightful sort, wandering around chatting with everyone and unfailingly patting my head or pinching my cheek.  She is not wanted by her family - no one has come to check on her, in my time here - and that is surely their loss.  How people can become so disposable is an issue that saddens me.  At the same time, my heart is immensely gladdened that the Banyan gives many people a home.

Home.  A nice word.  A warm place, most of the time.

Unw -

R